Ch 17

The next morning the bull pen was noticeably quiet. The sombre mood had taken root with the teams earlier than usual arrival. The first rays of the morning's sun shone brightly through the slatted windows, exuding a warm orange glow throughout the lower floor of the Mission and casting bright beams of light across the desks. But none of the team was in the mood to notice and appreciate the calm beauty that came with the dawning of a new day. Instead, their immediate focus was on the case in hand, namely the clearing of their team leader's name. Without Callen, Sam had no one with which to banter and he concentrated on reading the documents Nell had emailed him. Deeks too was glued to his lap top, while Kensi was studying several files which Hetty had placed on her desk. No new leads had materialised overnight and they were all secretly hoping the wonder twins had made a breakthrough. A shrill whistle interrupted their concentration and the team looked up to the stairs where Nell stood, hands on hips.

"Guys, you need to see this," she said before turning swiftly and running up the remaining stairs and in to the Ops centre.

"What now?" Kensi said pessimistically, following her two male colleagues up the stairs.

"Probably Callen getting himself into more trouble, maybe he gave too much lip to the cops and got himself a beating," Sam muttered with a shake of his head. The way the past week was going, nothing was going to surprise him.

"Maybe I'll tell Callen how much faith you have in him," Deeks tried to lighten the situation, but having seen firsthand how quickly Callen could lose his cool, he too shared Sam's concerns.

"Gentlemen and lady, if you please," Hetty encouraged the team to move along quickly in to Ops. "Eric?"

"Looks like your visit to Petrov AKA CIA Agent Karl Grigson alerted the wrong people," Eric pressed play on his tablet and a grainy video feed filled the screen. "This happened five hours ago and we've received the footage from the CIA in the last twenty minutes."

Eric fell silent as two men dressed in black entered Grigson's apartment. Minutes later they emerged, forcing Grigson to walk ahead of them at gunpoint.

"A traffic cam shows them forcing Grigson into a black transit van with no distinguishing markings. We can follow them for a few blocks until they turn down a side road and then we lose them. They either swapped vehicles or are keeping him hostage in one of the buildings."

"Why the delay? Why didn't the CIA send this to us immediately?" Sam asked.

"They wanted to keep this in-house and were reviewing the footage themselves and apparently chasing down a few leads. They haven't shared those leads with us."

"Hhmm," Sam responded. "Guess they've already cleared out the buildings in the side road then?"

"No, Mr Hanna," Hetty said. "By all accounts they're playing this carefully so as to not break Agent Grigson's cover. They've requested our assistance, rather than going in themselves or relying on the FBI..."

"We'd better get down there," Sam said. Kensi and Deeks nodded in agreement.

"But there's more," Hetty reigned the team in. "Nell?"

"It seems that Grigson was a very popular man yesterday. In between your visit and his kidnapping, his colleagues at the CIA also made contact. If you look here, you can make out Agents Bolton and Fordham at his door."

"What time was that?" Kensi asked, hoping to make a connection between the CIA visit and Grigson being taken.

"They turned up an hour after you left yesterday and stayed for ten minutes. Grigson then stayed in his apartment for the remainder of the day and evening. So far, his disappearance could be linked to your visit, or the CIAs – or even both – or just be unconnected..."

"Great," Sam commented. "So yet again we have nothing."

"Ah c'mon Sam," Deeks felt it was his duty to remain optimistic. "We have the last known location of the transit van. If we don't find Grigson we might find a clue there. And Hetty was looking into the CIA agents..."

"Indeed I was Mr Deeks." Hetty turned to Nell. "Miss Jones has an update for us..."

"Certainly, Hetty," Nell responded and she turned to address the team. "Agent Jessica Bolton has been with the CIA since 1995, starting her career as a Counter Intelligence Analyst at Langley before moving to a series of field based roles where she advised on policy for classified missions mainly in the Middle East - Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq and Syria. In 1999 she spent seven months in Russia, again serving as a counter intelligence officer, working as part of a team of three whose main remit was to support all CIA operations in Russia."

"Was Callen in Russia during this time?" Sam asked.

"Indeed he was," Hetty replied. "Mr Callen was at the end of an undercover operation when Agent Bolton arrived. I doubt he would have been aware of her as he left Russia within days of her arrival. But as part of her preparation and briefings she would have been fully aware of him."

"I know Callen is good, but how could he have pissed her off without even meeting her?" Deeks smiled to lighten the mood but his words fell on deaf ears.

"Mr Callen is a talented man," Hetty answered seriously, deliberately playing with Deeks' sentiments. "However his mission during that time was text book and I can confirm there was nothing to flag him, his colleagues or the operation as a cause for concern. Not back then and not now."

"Were there any other times she might have come across Callen? I mean he clearly doesn't know her, but if Bolton already knew of Callen..." Kensi asked.

Hetty shook her head. "No, just that few days crossover in Russia. Nell, please enlighten us as to your findings on Agent Fordham."

"Agent Tom Fordham has moved between a number of the alphabet agencies. He started off with the ATF, moved to the DEA, then on to Homeland Security before winding up with the Agency. He spent about the same length of time with each; and each company change was either a sideways move or a slight career progression, so there is nothing suspicious about that, apart from revealing that he's not overly ambitious or valued. What I can confirm is that he and Callen were in the DEA at the same time, but I can't yet find any evidence that their paths crossed."

The team paused momentarily, reviewing the text that was now displayed in front of them. Nell had circled Fordham's locations and missions whilst in the DEA and on the opposite side of the screen were the operations and countries where Callen had been located within the same timeframe. There was no correlation at all. In fact there was only one month out of the seven where their careers overlapped, when they were even in the same continent. The sombre atmosphere from the bull pen suddenly permeated through the Ops centre as though a weight had dropped on their shoulders. They were no closer to finding out who was framing Callen than they had been two days ago, and the reason why was just as elusive. Every thread they attempted to pull just came away loose in their fingers.

"How about a different approach?" Nell suggested. "What if we look at who stands to gain if Callen is convicted as a traitor and sent to a Federal Prison?"

Sam visibly winced at the latter part of Nell's sentence. "Well he's put more than his fair share of criminals behind bars including a few Federal Agents and military personnel. He could easily end up in the same prison as anyone of them."

"But there's no guarantee that he'll actually be convicted and even if he is, no one can predict where he'll be sent," Deeks answered, playing devil's advocate and shooting down Sam's first attempt at answering Nell's question.

"I think we can rule out the Comescu's," Kensi added. "They just want Callen dead, to end his bloodline. There can't be many of them left and this is just not their style."

"What about Marcel Janvier? He wants Callen to suffer and what better way than to strip away what he lives for – his job, his career, removing him from his friends and his NCIS family..." Nell suggested.

"It's a possibility and one that needs to be taken seriously" Hetty considered. "We know he has contacts. Nell, Eric you'd best investigate that further, however like the Comescu's, I don't believe it is his style. Janvier enjoys toying with Callen, engaging him in the game and takes great delight in witnessing Callen's reactions first hand. My instinct is that Janvier is not the culprit on this occasion."

"What about the Russians?" Deeks said. Having been present during Callen's interviews he was becoming increasingly suspicious that they were behind this. "They've been a constant presence for Callen even before this investigation, I mean look what happened when Callen came back from Moscow a few weeks ago. Maybe that kick started all of this?"

Sam shook his head. "There are just too many variables, too many unknowns."

"Then we must systematically run each variable down to narrow the possibilities until we can corner this bastard," Hetty explained patiently to the team. She was very much aware they were losing focus and thinking with their hearts instead of their heads. "Nell and Eric, look into Janvier and make sure he's behaving himself. Sam, Kensi and Deeks, go tactical and raid the warehouse where the van that abducted Grigson was last seen. I will make some calls on the Russians. Now shoo."

Hetty ushered the team out of ops but before they left Sam turned back. "How's Callen?"

With the focus on who was after Callen and why, the team had neglected to ask how their colleague and friend had survived his first night in jail.

"He's had worse nights – and he managed to get through last night without any further trouble, or at least so I've been led to believe. The CIA will be looking to move him to a Federal prison later today so the sooner we solve this, the better. Now chop, chop."

The team realised they would get little more out of Hetty and they headed towards the armoury ready to gear up to rescue Grigson.

NCISLA...NCISLA...

Callen's night in the cells had felt like an eternity. Sure he'd had plenty of experience of being locked up, captured and tortured in various countries and by various authorities, but that Friday night, the LAPD lock up was there in the top three. Maybe it was because he was aware of everything he stood to lose, should his team not be able to clear his name and find the real reason why he had been targeted. During the early part of the evening, a teenager who'd been arrested for soliciting joined him in the cell. The young man outwardly showed no remorse and was remarkably calm, however he had insisted on trying to make conversation with Callen. After several long, hard stares, he got the message. Callen briefly wondered how someone so young could be so blasé, before he shook some nasty shadows away from the corners of his memory of similar teen prostitutes he had once known. It was around midnight that the LAPD cells came to life. Suddenly, as though a curse had been placed on Los Angeles, the dregs of society were arrested and placed in his cell. A Latino arrested for possession with intent to supply, a mid thirties white trash male arrested for beating on his wife, an Hispanic arrested for driving under the influence and another teen, this one caught hotwiring a car. The noise level had risen ten-fold but Callen stuck firmly to his place on the hard wooden bench. He had learned a long time ago that the best course of action is to remain firm – in your story and where you were sitting. Changing position could be seen as a sign of weakness.

He remained awake all night, as did most of his cell mates. The two teens were sat on the floor and both somehow managed to doze on and off. He remembered a time where he could do that, when he felt safer in a jail cell than he did out of one. But now he had to stay awake and remain alert; several of his cell mates exuded danger and Callen had decided many hours ago that he would match that. Slowly the dull light of the cell gave way to glimmers of the day's first sunrays and with it came the switching on of the harsh artificial lights in the corridor, making sure everyone was awake. About thirty minutes later, the clanging of the trays of breakfast slop broke through the silence that had eventually fallen through the cells.

"Callen," called out one of the LAPD officers. "Place your hands through the cell door. You're being cuffed and escorted to an interview room."

Callen sighed heavily and kicked his tray away as he rose and moved to the front of the cell. There had been no need for that action apart from to annoy the officer – a desire that had come naturally to him, a throwback to a former life – and to underline to the others that he was a man not to be messed with. Once again he was handcuffed and this time escorted through a series of short, narrow hallways to an interview room. The officer led him inside; made sure he was sitting down and then left him, locking the door on his way out. No words had been uttered. Callen had no idea who wanted to talk to him. It could be Hetty, Deeks or both of the CIA goons. He glanced around the room. It was of a standard size with a one way glass pane on the opposite side of the wall to where he sat. He knew there would be a small viewing room on the other side and he wondered who his audience would be. He looked up and saw the cameras, bleeping red to indicate they were switched on and recording. Callen's gaze returned to the table. It had clearly seen many years of use. Scratched on the top, in pen and by knife were a mixture of doodles, names, profanities, death threats and the odd curse. A variety of languages had been used and Callen passed the time by deciphering the images and translating the words.

After ten minutes, the door to the interview room was unlocked and an older man in his sixties entered. He was rather portly with fast receding white hair. His cheeks were a ruddy red; the same colour as his nose, which either belied the fact he was a heavy drinker, or that it was bitterly cold outside. And as they were in the midst of a very warm and dry spring, Callen wisely opted for the latter; that and the fact that he knew exactly who this man was.

A/N: this chapter was written before "Rage" aired and has not been amended since, except for typos (as I appear to be fairly in tune with how the writers see Callen – thankfully! I don't think I would cope with any re-writes of this story or chapters)